


Encore

by toushindai (WallofIllusion)



Category: Transistor (Video Game)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, F/M, Semi-Public Sex, Sybil Reisz makes a brief appearance, Undressing, so much flirting and banter. my god.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-01-30 17:28:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12658122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WallofIllusion/pseuds/toushindai
Summary: Red's made it through a week of comeback shows, and her boyfriend thinks she deserves something special.(Her idea of what that something special should be isn't the same as his, but he can handle that.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "chapter two" is a picture I drew, not more words, so don't get your hopes up. Unless it's a picture you're excited for, in which case, do.

As the crowds begin to thin, he knocks on the dressing room door. “It’s me.”

“Come in!”

He lets himself into the room and finds Red seated at the vanity, patting her face with a damp towel to wipe away her makeup and the sweat born of an hour under those stage lights. She lowers the towel just long enough to flash him one of the smiles that make his heart beat fast every time. “Hey, you.”

“Hi,” he answers. “Great show. Does it feel good to be back?”

“It’s incredible,” she answers, her eyes shining. But then her smile grows wry. “And you were right, I should _not_ have gone straight back into a week of performances. I am _exhausted_.”

“I did warn you.”

“You did. I didn’t listen.”

“It’s okay, I figured you had your own plan.” She always does, after all. He spreads his arms in a shrug. “If you were looking to make a splash, I’d say it worked. Everyone loved it. Everyone loves _you_.”

Her smile at that is complicated, tinged with relief. She goes back to wiping her face.

“I’m sorry you couldn’t watch properly from the audience,” she muses.

He shrugs. “The one problem with being a bodyguard.”

“You don’t have to be a bodyguard, if you don’t want to.”

“But you’re still worried about going public.”

She stills for a moment, then sighs. “Maybe in… half a year. Once I’m reestablished.” She glances at him. “I’m sorry.”

He waves away the apology. He doesn’t particularly want the whole city knowing about their relationship either, least of all while Red is getting back on her feet after spending the better part of a year out of the spotlight.

They just want to be together. No need to get the public involved—it’s easy to agree on that.

“Say,” he starts casually, as though this wasn’t the point of coming to see her from the beginning, “you want to come back to my place once you’ve changed?”

She turns, arches a mischievous eyebrow. He answers with a crooked grin.

“You’ve been working hard all week,” he says. “I want to do something special for you. To celebrate.”

“That does sound appealing,” Red says, smirking through the deliberate understatement. “But I have a counter-proposal.”

“Hm?”

“Why don’t you lock the door and come over here?”

He snorts and rolls his eyes, but her gaze is still determined when he looks back at her. “Oh, you’re _serious_.”

“I’m always serious,” she lies through a sparkling grin.

“You know there are still people out there, right?”

“They’re not in here with us. You _did_ say you wanted to do something special?”

“I did,” he admits. “And this is what you want, huh?”

“Mmhmm.”

Maybe he shouldn’t be surprised. Watching Red perform has been like seeing her come back to life; she’s been more vibrant this past week than he’s seen her in months. It figures that she would want to linger here a little longer.

Voices and footsteps wander about on the other side of the door, but it’s already quieter than it was five minutes ago. The venue’s emptying out. And is anyone really going to pay much attention?

So he turns the lock—to an approving hum from Red—and hangs his jacket on the hook by the door. Then he crosses the narrow dressing room in two strides and bends to kiss her. She kisses back, laughing delight against his lips and looping her arms around his shoulders.

“Quit laughing, you,” he says, but she only answers by laughing again. She stands and leans against the vanity to pull him down into another kiss. This one is more heated, and he feels eagerness throb in his blood with every touch of her lips. He traces both hands down her neckline and fingers her feathered collar where it rests against her bosom.

“How do I get this off you, Red?” he murmurs.

But at that, she pushes him away. “ _You_ do not,” she says primly. “The collar’s finicky. I’ll take care of that.”

“All right.” He holds up his hands in surrender. “Better leave the rest for me, though. I don’t want you to have to lift a finger tonight.”

“What a gentleman.” She rolls her eyes at him and then faces the mirror again, deftly plucking out the hidden pins that fasten the collar to the gown. It keeps its shape as she lifts it over her head and arranges it instead around the neck of a nearby mannequin. As she’s pinning it into place there, he runs a finger up her spine. She shifts at his touch and leaves off with the collar. “…Mm.”

“Mm,” he agrees, voice low with desire. When he reaches her shoulder, he toys with the edge of her gown for just a moment before sliding the wide sleeve down her arm slowly. She pulls her arm free of the sleeve as it slips out of place and then rests her fingertips on the vanity. He repeats the maneuver with the other sleeve and glances at their reflections in the mirror. “You are _beautiful_ , Red.”

Her lips—just barely visible at the top of the mirror—curl into a satisfied smile. “Mm, so _that’s_ why you’re so eager to take the initiative tonight,” she teases.

“I’m taking the initiative because you’ve been working your ass off all week.” He leans in to murmur in her ear. “It’s time for you to relax and let me take care of you.”

She chuckles. “Well, you won’t find me complaining about _that_ ,” she says, and then catches her breath as he finally cups her breasts in both hands. Her head falls back against his shoulder and her spine arches at his lightest touch. For all that she keeps an aloof public image, she is wonderfully responsive in private. She bites her lower lip as he ghosts his fingers over one nipple, and he gives a low, husky laugh.

“Try not to make much noise,” he warns. “Don’t want anyone out there to hear.”

“Oh, shut up,” she says with a roll of her eyes. But then her eyes fall half-closed again, her lips curled up with pleasure and her fingertips splayed against the vanity table as he massages her bare chest.

He shifts his hands to her waist next, and the band of black fabric encircling it. “You want me to get rid of this… what do you _call_ this?” he asks, the purr in his voice giving way for a moment to genuine curiosity. “It’s too thick to be a belt, is it a corset?”

She laughs. “A waist cincher,” she answers. “It would be a corset if it offered a little more structure, but I wouldn’t be able to sing in a corset.”

He raises a dubious eyebrow. “Your waist doesn’t need cinching. If you get any skinnier you’ll snap in half.”

“It’s just an aesthetic touch, don’t worry.” She rests her hands on top of his, nails scraping the backs of his fingers just enough to make him shiver. “It is tight, though, so yes, I’d _love_ for you to take it off.”

“Well, then.” He guesses that’s what he’d better do. There’s a series of hooks down the back of it, neatly hidden by an extra flap of stiff fabric. He unhooks them and Red exhales as he sets the cincher on the vanity. With his hands on her hips, he bends to press his lips to the side of her neck. She smells like a concert night, hairspray and sweat mingled together. She smells like _herself_. His hips grind forward on their own, and if she wasn’t sure before how much he’s enjoying this, well, she definitely knows now.

“ _Mm_ …” Her fingers curl where they rest on the vanity. “Gonna get the rest of this off of me, babe?”

“Yeah, I think it’s time.” He undoes the zipper that had been hidden under the cincher as slowly as he can bear to, but doesn’t let the dress fall just yet. “Now, do I need to hang this up or—”

But Red bats his hands away. “It’ll be fine,” she assures him impatiently. “It should be hung up, yes, but that can wait.” 

She shimmies free of the dress to reveal low-cut panties of the same goldenrod color and thigh-high black stockings. Kicking the dress out of the way, she turns towards him at last, obviously eager to soak up his hungry gaze. Her eyes dip to the tent in his pants just once, and her smirk grows. “Like what you see?”

“I’ll say. You always match your underwear to your dress?”

A playful shrug. “When I feel like it.”

“It’s cute.” It’s better than cute, honestly, but tonight isn’t about how much she turns him on. Tonight is about celebrating her comeback, congratulating her for a job brilliantly done. He steps closer, traces the hem of her panties and teases at tugging them down. The fire in her eyes tells him he’s on the right track. He cracks a sly grin. “Lean back on the vanity?”

She does, and he doesn’t even need to ask her to spread her legs as he gets down on his knees. Again he teases at the hem of her panties, but first he kisses her inner thigh right where it meets her stocking. She whimpers, squirms. Spreads her legs that much more. Still he teases his tongue over the edge of one stocking, then the other, inhaling the scent of her desire but not leaning in to taste it yet. Not until her hand tangles into his hair and she pulls his head up to look at her.

“Babe,” she says, face flushed but eyebrow arched with impeccable composure, “ _get started_.”

He snickers at her demand and then, after one last slow kiss on her thigh, peels her panties out of the way and lets them fall to the floor by his knees. At last he presses his mouth to her and feels her go limp with relief. A faint moan floats over the top of his head. She slouches backwards until she’s leaning against the mirror, but her hand doesn’t leave his hair as he parts her folds with his fingers and laps up her arousal.

When he closes his lips around her swollen clit, he glances up to catch her eye. The look on her face is something greedier than love, something more tender than pure lust. She bites her lip to hold in a cry as he sucks on her, her grip on his hair tightening. And then, once she’s regained a little control, she laughs softly and ruffles his hair.

“Can you see yourself?” she asks breathlessly with a nod at the mirror. “You’re gorgeous.”

Obligingly, he looks towards the mirror. His line of sight isn’t great, but over the reflection of Red’s thigh he sees his own flushed face and her fingers entangled in his hair. He cracks a grin, watches his reflection’s eyes crinkle. Then looks back at Red.

“I’d rather watch you,” he says winningly.

“Flirt,” she retorts, but his attention to her clit cuts short any further sarcasm from her end. A moan escapes her, strained with the effort of keeping it quiet, and her hips lift to meet his mouth. When his tongue circles her clit, she gives a sharp gasp that dissolves into breathy chuckles. “Mmmm, maybe you’re right,” she says, fingers combing through his hair. “Maybe we should’ve gone home first.”

“Too late now,” he smirks. “Better keep quiet.”

“Believe me, I am doing my bes—mmf—!” Her thighs tense and she presses her free hand over her mouth as he goes back to work on her. Every stifled sound she lets out turns him on more. It’s not that he wants to be overheard by whoever happens to be in the hall—but if he’s making Red feel good enough that there’s a risk of it, he’s doing his job right.

When she comes, it’s with a muffled squeak, her hips twitching and her thighs clenching suddenly around his head. She’s pulling his hair without meaning to but he puts up with it for now as a few more urgent whines eke out of her throat, until finally she relaxes and gives a murmuring laugh instead.

After one last gentle kiss, he tilts his head back to tug his hair out of her grip. “Ow, by the way,” he remarks.

She chuckles again and lets go. “Sorry, babe,” she says, not looking particularly sorry; looking louche and disheveled and content as she stays slouched back against the mirror. Keeping fond eyes on him, she pats around on the vanity table with one hand until it comes across her towel; then she tosses it in his direction. Sort of. Close enough for him to catch, at least.

“Thanks.” He wipes his mouth and then gets to his feet. Her eyes trail down his body and come to rest on his hard-on, still strained against his pants.

“What’re you going to do about that?” she teases lazily, swinging her leg so that her boot traces up his thigh. “You can’t exactly walk out of here in that state. Not if we want to keep up the bodyguard shtick.”

“I’ll take care of it while you’re getting dressed,” he answers. Not that he has a plan, per se. But as long as he thinks of something unsexy and doesn’t watch her change, he should be able to wait until they get back to his place.

Red, however, props herself up on her elbows. “We could take care of it together,” she proposes through a smirk, “without getting dressed.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh, you want more?”

“I’m still feeling celebratory,” she pronounces. “What do you say?”

“Well…”

She seems to have made her decision already. She sits up properly and, without waiting for a real answer, tugs him forward by the hips and undoes his belt.

He exhales a little more heavily than he means to. “Red,” he protests, “I told you I don’t want you lifting a finger.”

“Going to stop me?” she asks. She’s fiddling with his zipper pull and it’s taking a considerable amount of effort not to grind forward into her touch. He wants her. Badly. As badly as she wants him.

And besides—

He rolls his eyes. “Nothing stops you once you’ve made up your mind,” he points out.

“You’re right about that,” she says smugly, and finishes undoing his fly at last. She lets his pants and boxers fall to the floor together and, as he kicks them aside, slides off the vanity table and down to the chair where she was sitting when he first walked in. “C’mere, babe.”

As if he could resist the way she’s pulling him forward by the hips again. Without hesitation—without any trace of the exhaustion she mentioned earlier—she curls one hand around his length and lowers her mouth to him. He exhales slowly as her lips close around the head, warm and wet. The possessive look she sends up at him makes his heart skip a beat. She runs her tongue up the underside of his cock and again he has to exhale very deliberately to keep from letting out a louder sound.

She turns a playful pout up at him suddenly. “Aw, don’t hold back,” she says, shifting her thumb ever so slightly along his length. “Let me hear you moan.”

“It’s not _you_ hearing that I’m trying to avoid,” he points out, nodding back towards the door to the hallway.

“There’s no one out there anymore.”

“There’s got to be, and I’m pretty sure you just jinxed it.”

She arches an eyebrow at him. “Getting superstitious now?” she asks. But she doesn’t wait for an answer before leaning in again, rounding her lips to take him into her mouth. This time, he can’t help but grunt a little, his hips twitching. She hums around him as if to say _better_ , and he twitches again. Her hands cup his ass where it meets his thighs. She moves her head up and down his cock, never breaking eye contact, and he gives into the feeling. He’s not going to last long like this.

And then someone knocks on the door.

Red jerks back from him, her eyes wide, and the sudden vanishing of her warmth leaves him stumbling.

“Red? Are you in there?”

 _Shit!,_ Red mouths in his direction. It’s Sybil.

“Yes, I’m in here!” Red calls back, remarkably composed for someone who was in the middle of a blow job ten seconds ago. She sweeps his underwear off the floor and hands them to him as she stands. “Do you need something, Sybil?”

“I just wanted to say, you did a great job this week!” Sybil chirps from the other side of the door.

“Oh, thank you!” Red chirps back. “I really appreciated your help with the arrangements. Sorry, I’d come out and say hi, but I’m actually right in the middle of changing…”

Right, which is why he should not be watching her, even if it is captivating to see the way her bearing changes in an instant. He needs to not be captivated right now. He needs to think about something other than Red and the scandalized, _I-can’t-believe-this-is-happening_ look she’s sending him in between her superficial banter with Sybil. Geometry, geometry isn’t sexy, right? He tries to remember how to calculate the area of various shapes while he steps back into his underwear and collects his pants from the floor.

“That’s okay!” comes Sybil’s voice. “Actually, I was thinking, if you don’t have any plans, want to grab a drink to celebrate? Or we could even get a late dinner—”

“I’m sorry, Sybil,” Red cuts her off. “I’m exhausted, I really just want to rest tonight.”

“Oh.”

Disappointment is obvious in Sybil’s voice—probably more obvious than she’d like it to be. Red winces and combs her fingers through her hair. She speaks again. “I do want to say thank you, though, it’s just going to take me a minute to get dressed. Meet me by the stage?”

“I can wait here if you’d like!”

“No, the stage will be fine! I’ll see you in a tic.”

“…Okay.” Sybil is as powerless to resist Red’s certainty as anyone else is. “I’ll see you there, Red.”

They wait until they hear Sybil’s heels click down the hall and away. Then they both breathe sighs of relief, Red throwing her head back with exaggerated bafflement.

“Of _course_ it would be Sybil,” she says, her voice exasperated but still quiet.

He sends her a sympathetic wince. “Awkward.”

“Less awkward if she’d take a hint already. Or just say something outright so I can turn her down,” Red mumbles. She combs her fingers through her hair again.

He's not a fan of Sybil's unspoken but painfully obvious crush either, but at least the situation—like Sybil herself—is easier for him to ignore. He retrieves his jacket from the hook by the door and doesn’t point out that the option of saying something outright is open to Red, too.

Finally Red gives her head a little shake. “I should get dressed. She’ll be waiting. Can you imagine if she’d opened the door and found us like that?”

“I don’t think I _want_ to imagine that,” he answers.

“I don’t know, it might help you out,” she says with a significant glance at his groin. He’s still half-hard. Then, with a chuckle, she puts the thought of Sybil behind her for now. She retrieves a loose blouse from the coat rack in the corner and pulls it over her head while he gathers her concert dress from the floor. By the time she’s slid into a pair of soft pants, he’s shaken the worst wrinkles out of the gown, zipped it back up, and offered it to her with the sleeves looped over one arm. He barely needs to hold his arm up at all to keep the bottom hem from dragging on the ground.

She snorts at his best impression of a hanger. “You are so _tall_ ,” she says indignantly, and slides the gown off his arm, onto an actual hanger, and into a garment bag. As she folds the waist cincher over the hanger and begins unpinning the feather collar from the mannequin, she speaks again. “Here’s the plan: after I’ve been talking to Sybil for a few minutes, bring these out and ask me where I’d like them.”

 _On my bedroom floor_ , his mind supplies unnecessarily. What he says out loud is, “Am I your valet now? Thought I was your bodyguard.”

“Oh, hush. If we’re lucky, Sybil won’t realize you were in here with me the whole time. Behind a locked door. While I was, as I just told her, almost completely naked.”

“I don’t know if we’re that lucky,” he says dubiously. But for some reason, he can’t stop grinning. “This is your fault, by the way.”

“Yes it is. Shut up.” She’s grinning, too. She puts the dress down for a second. “Hey,” she says, and takes him by the collar to pull him into a fierce kiss that leaves them both breathless. “I love you. Am I still invited over?”

“Absolutely.”

“Great.” She gazes up at him, joy shining in her eyes, and for a moment it feels like they could stay right here for the rest of the night, just drinking each other in. Then she blinks free and checks her outfit in the mirror. “I’ll see you in a few minutes. And babe?”

“Hm?”

“Try to avoid people on the way to the stage, you’re still not looking very presentable.”

She flashes him one last teasing smile that makes his heart flutter and then disappears out the dressing room door. Left behind, he glances down at the persistent bulge in his pants.

“That’s also her fault,” he informs no one in particular, and sets about calculating the area of a circle as he tucks his shirt in.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (picture)

_"When she comes, it’s with a muffled squeak, her hips twitching and her thighs clenching suddenly around his head. She’s pulling his hair without meaning to but he puts up with it for now as a few more urgent whines eke out of her throat, until finally she relaxes and gives a murmuring laugh instead."_


End file.
